


eight hours in a metal box with wings

by renaissance



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Airplanes, Friendship, Future Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 08:59:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3203438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renaissance/pseuds/renaissance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's one thing for a team to play well together, and another entirely for them to be friends off court.</p>
            </blockquote>





	eight hours in a metal box with wings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wafflesquire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wafflesquire/gifts).



> In high school, me and my friends had a tradition of writing plane letters for anyone who was going on holiday. I've known my HQ beta reader for almost nine years, and over those years I've been pretty slack with my plane letters. This is to make up for it! I hope you enjoy! :D
> 
> I have a lot of Oikawa At University headcanons. Maybe too many. This is some of them.
> 
> (Also, please bear with me while I aim for a consistency in suffixes and text message formatting.)

There’s a mix-up in the booking, which is how their team ends up scattered all over the plane. They only find out at check-in, though, _after_ Bokuto has finished sketching out his Ideal Seating Plan Optimised For Maximum Party Efficiency.

It’s probably just as well that the plan can't go ahead, because Tooru has somehow ascended the ranks of Bokuto’s Professional Partying League Tables, and was going to be right in front of him and next to Futakuchi. Tooru still does not know how this happened, or what he ever did to deserve being on a team with the three most annoying wing spikers in Japan.

The third-most annoying wing spiker in Japan seems to be having trouble comprehending the change in their plans.

“I thought we had already booked the seats,” Ushijima says, eyeing his ticket warily.

“Yes,” Tooru says, slowly and for the fifth time, “but they messed up, and now we’re sitting all over the place.”

“I’m in a window seat,” Ushijima says. “I won’t have any legroom.”

“Aone’s in a middle seat,” Futakuchi chimes in, “so you can suck it up, Waka.”

“I’ll swap!” Nishinoya says. “With either of you. I’ve got an aisle seat.”

“You always need to pee on long trips, though,” Futakuchi says.

“I can climb over people,” Nishinoya responds, shrugging.

“Because you’re small,” Ushijima adds helpfully.

Nishinoya starts doing that thing where he scrunches his face into a frown and jumps up and down, just to prove that he can pop his head over 160 centimetres when he wants to.

“Waka’s on form today,” Futakuchi says.

In the few months they’ve been on the same team, Tooru’s had the pleasure of playing alongside someone who people dislike more than him, and with good reason. That thing that Futakuchi does where he talks under his breath but still makes sure everyone can hear him is _really_ frustrating.

“Thank you?” Ushijima says, confused. He’s as good at picking up sarcasm as Bokuto is at staying calm.

“Hey now,” Tooru says, putting on his Team Captain voice, “we’ll all sit in our allocated seats, and switch around later if we need to.”

Kuroo and Bokuto choose that moment to return from the vending machines.

“We picked up snacks,” Bokuto says, at the same time that Kuroo asks, “What’d we miss?”

“Ushiwaka has a window seat,” Tooru says, “and Aone-kun is stuck in the middle.”

“Ouch,” Kuroo says.

Of all the people on his university team, Tooru would take Kuroo’s company over any of the others. Kuroo is his vice captain, too, which is a relief. They’re the university’s junior division team, and there was a very scary moment after it was announced that Tooru was to be captain that he thought Ushijima would be his vice. People skills won out over brute force, though.

This isn’t their first trip together, but they’ve never been overseas before now. They emerged from the national university championships victorious, and they’re headed to Honolulu for the international competition. And despite how much grief they give Tooru, they play damn well together.

There were a few hiccups in Tooru’s first year, when it emerged that Ushijima was kind of rubbish at hitting his tosses, and while Bokuto moped over not being able to work with his favourite setter. But when the new first years joined, things stepped up a notch. Futakuchi, for all that he’s impossible to be around, can match Tooru’s more powerful tosses, and he and Aone—from the same high school and essentially inseparable—are a force of nature when they combine with Kuroo to form a three-man block. That, and Nishinoya is probably the best libero in the country, as much as Tooru hates to admit it aloud.

There’s a strange sort of camaraderie in a team of people who really shouldn’t get on with one another at all, and it’s not the same when any of the reserves are subbed in. It has to be the seven of them.

“We’ve got about an hour before boarding,” Kuroo says, “so I say we hit up duty free.”

“Do you think they have those giant toblerones here?” Futakuchi asks. “My sister is always banging on about them.”

“If you buy one now, it won’t last until we get back,” Ushijima says sensibly.

“Sure,” Futakuchi says, “but I can take a selfie with one to piss her off.”

“Always with the selfies,” Kuroo says. Like he isn’t the biggest culprit on the team.

“That reminds me!” Nishinoya shouts. “Team selfie before we go through security!”

He pulls out his phone, and they all crowd around. Tooru slides effortlessly to the centre of the camera’s field, just behind Nishinoya, with Kuroo and Bokuto on either side. Ushijima stands behind them, with Aone silently slotting in next to him—the unspoken rule is that Aone is always at the back of team selfies—and Futakuchi crouches down beside Nishinoya.

“Say volleyball!” Nishinoya says, his finger hovering over the camera button.

The picture catches Ushijima in the middle of asking, “Why?”

“I’m tweeting it now,” Nishinoya says. “So you’d all better get your phones out and favourite it.”

Nishinoya is still in the honeymoon period. Tooru has been favouriting selfies for years. Nevertheless, he gets his phone out of his pocket and favourites the photo, which Nishinoya has captioned “HAWAII AIN'T READY FOR MY CREW!!!!!”

Tooru lets the rest of his team chatter as he checks his notifications. There are two texts from Iwa on his phone:

> **From:** Iwa-chan
> 
> Have you been through security yet?
> 
> Try not to look too shifty.

Before he can type a reply, Kuroo sidles up behind Tooru and taps him on the shoulder.

“Quiet today, huh, Captain?”

Tooru startles, just a bit. “Really, Tetsu,” he says, “am I so different to normal?”

Kuroo shrugs. “This is how you get before a match. All focused and quiet and replacing proper sentences with weird hand gestures.”

“Jeez,” Tooru says, deflating a bit, “that’s flattering.”

“All I’m saying is, you don’t need your game face on to go through security.”

“I’m not scared of security,” Tooru says. “I have nothing to hide.”

“I never said you were scared,” Kuroo says, raising an eyebrow.

Tooru sighs, double-checking that the rest of the team is out of earshot. “If you _must_ know,” he says in a whisper, “I’ve never flown before. I don’t know what it’s like.”

“Dude,” Kuroo says. “Nowhere? Ever?”

“Yes, nowhere, ever,” Tooru says quickly. “Don’t make a big deal of it, alright?”

“No judgement,” Kuroo says. “I’m just curious, that’s all.”

“It was private school or luxury holidays,” Tooru says. “I went to private school.”

Kuroo shrugs. “Fair enough. Must suck for you that we’re not sitting together, though. Sure you don’t need someone to hold your hand?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Tooru hisses, jabbing Kuroo in the side. He’s picked up a trick or two from Iwa.

Kuroo only laughs, though, and that catches Bokuto’s attention.

“Hey hey, what’s going on back here?”

“Secret captain business,” Kuroo replies, waving his fingers in front of him.

By now, they’ve reached the queue for security, and Futakuchi is busy emptying his bag of electronics to go through the scanner. He’s brought a digital camera, a handheld video camera, a tablet _and_ a laptop, and a second, smaller digital camera.

“ _What_ is all that for,” Tooru asks. Maybe if he can bring Futakuchi, who talks so much that he may as well have two mouths, into the conversation, then Kuroo will stop bothering him.

Futakuchi shrugs. “I always come prepared.”

Going through security is more revealing than Tooru would have thought. Bokuto and Nishinoya are told that they can’t bring their hair gel onto the plane, and Ushijima has too many textbooks in his bag, which the scanner mistakes for blocks of wood.

“Is he really going to read all of those on the plane?” Kuroo asks under his breath.

“This is why he wasn’t going to be seated in the Party Aisle,” Bokuto says.

“I _can_ hear you,” Ushijima says.

Tooru goes through security last.

“Oh my god,” Futakuchi says, “is there a volleyball in your bag?”

Tooru blinks. “Should there… not be?”

“Dude, you can’t bring a volleyball onto a plane,” Kuroo says.

“Is that a real rule, or an unspoken one?” Bokuto asks.

“It’s fine,” the security attendant says, sounding bored. She probably gets this all the time.

“Are you guys done?” Nishinoya asks. “I need to pee!”

“Huh? Already?” Futakuchi says, giving Nishinoya a shove.

“You can go without us, you know,” Kuroo says drily.

As Nishinoya dashes off and Futakuchi pauses to realign his electronics, Tooru checks his phone.

> **To:** Iwa-chan
> 
> We just went through! d(^-^)
> 
> **From:** Iwa-chan
> 
> Did you get random-checked?
> 
> Because you should have.
> 
> **To:** Iwa-chan
> 
> How mean, Iwa-chan!!! (T⌓T)
> 
> I did not!
> 
> Anyway I don’t know why they’d focus on me
> 
> Ken-chan’s bag is full of tech, Noya-chan and Boku-chan had enough hair gel to blow something up, Ushiwaka looks like a killer and Aone-kun looks like a thug
> 
> **From:** Iwa-chan
> 
> But you and Kuroo are fine
> 
> **To:** Iwa-chan
> 
> Right!!

Futakuchi leans over Tooru’s shoulder. “Not even my mum calls me ‘Ken-chan,’” he says.

“Clearly she hasn’t taught you manners, either,” Tooru snaps.

“I’ll give you that one,” Futakuchi says, nonplussed. “At least you don’t have to sit near me on the flight.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Tooru says.

Futakuchi laughs at that. “You’re alright,” he says, and skips over to where Aone is weighing up different brands of gum at the newsagency.

“I wish you guys liked each other,” Bokuto says. He looks contemplative. “We’re a good team as we are, but we’d be even better if you two got on.”

Tooru shrugs. He’s learnt that honesty is the best way to deal with Bokuto—a year and a bit of living in adjacent dorms and sharing a bathroom has done wonders for their friendship, even though it’s still a bit strained at times. It didn’t help that one of Bokuto’s high school friends was crashing on his floor for months after being kicked out of his flat for starting a fire with a Bombe Alaska—and Konoha always seemed way more interested in hitting on Tooru than looking for a place to live.

“I’m not used to him yet,” Tooru says. “He hits my tosses better than you or Ushiwaka, but I like him less as a person.”

“Ah, does that mean the famous Oikawa likes me as a person?” Bokuto asks.

“You wish,” Tooru says playfully. “You’re my _least_ favourite.”

Bokuto laughs. He has the sort of laugh that draws attention in public. “Whatever,” he says. “I know you love your neighbour, man.”

In general, Bokuto is a good neighbour. He’s too inquisitive when Tooru’s friends visit, though, and he spent months after they first moved in using Tooru as a go-between to get himself acquainted with Ushijima, who’s in the dorm on the other side of Tooru.

“Yeah,” Tooru says, “at least Ushiwaka doesn’t have terrible taste in music, unlike my _other_ neighbour.”

“Harsh,” Bokuto says, grinning. He punches Tooru in the arm, and pauses, giving him a curious look. “Don’t stress, yeah?”

“About what?” Tooru asks, before he can realise that it’s a bad idea.

“I don’t know if you’re afraid of flying or whatever, but you seem kind of nervous,” Bokuto says.

Tooru begins to worry that he is too easy to read. He’s always thought he has a mystique about him, an opacity that, manufactured or not, makes it hard for people to get close to him.

While he formulates an answer, Kuroo slides up beside him.

“Bokuto, bro, I hope you’re not giving our captain too much grief,” he says. “We need him in top form.”

“Just making sure he’s all good in the hood,” Bokuto says.

Tooru is on the verge of finally spitting out that response when Nishinoya returns, and Ushijima gravitates towards them as well.

“Alright!” Nishinoya says. “Let’s go shopping!”

For once, Nishinoya’s enthusiasm is less of a sharp elbow to the ribs and more of a relief. Tooru slowly introduces himself to the idea that he’s acting a bit weird. A distraction ought to take the attention off him for a bit.

Nishinoya locates a toy store, and he and Bokuto regress several years and enter with enthusiasm. Futakuchi heads off on his own to make a call, and Kuroo and Ushijima get distracted by half-price sneakers, which means Tooru is on Aone duty.

If Futakuchi is a pain in the neck, then his best friend is a mystery, because Aone is either the most patient person Tooru has ever met or a seriously rotten apple behind his quiet facade. And given how much Aone likes pressing flowers and looking after cats and small children, it’s probably the former.

Tooru would make some sort of joke about horrible people having the nicest friends, but he's pretty sure people would say the same thing about him and his grumpy Iwa-chan. Instead, he gives Aone an encouraging look.

“How’re you holding up, Aone-kun?”

Aone shrugs. “I… don’t like flying.”

“You want to know a secret?” Tooru asks.

Aone raises an eyebrow.

“I’ve never been on a plane before,” Tooru says. When Aone doesn’t respond, Tooru continues. “My mum always spent money on other things. We didn’t even contemplate big holidays. I suppose I always knew I’d end up on a plane one day, you know, being on a national team or something, but—”

“It's not that bad,” Aone says.

Tooru looks up at him in undisguised surprise.

“I think… I only dislike it because I… take up so much… space,” Aone continues, his voice a little louder.

“Ah,” Tooru says, collecting himself and laughing, “I’m not exactly short, though, am I?”

“Most people are short,” Aone says, with more confidence than Tooru has ever heard in his voice. It’s like this is the one thing he knows for certain.

“Tooru!”

He turns to see Kuroo waving, a shopping bag in one hand.

“They’re calling for boarding,” Kuroo explains. “We have to go to the gate, and then show them our passes, so get yours ready.”

“Why are you explaining this to him?” Ushijima asks.

Sometimes, the way Ushijima takes everything so literally is quite endearing, but right now, it makes Tooru want to scream.

“I’ve never been on a plane before,” Tooru says through clenched teeth.

“Shit, really?” Futakuchi asks, appearing from behind Tooru. He seems distracted, putting his phone in his pocket and not looking up.

“Don’t make me say it again,” Tooru says.

“Say what again?” Bokuto asks, returning from the toy store with an owl keychain dangling from his index finger.

Tooru takes a deep breath. “I have never been on a plane before. Are we done?”

Nishinoya gasps. “Don't worry, Captain! We’re here to support you!”

“Yeah!” Bokuto says, nodding his head in agreement. “After all, you’re always looking out for us.”

Tooru does _not_ blush, because that would be _embarrassing_.

“He’s sitting near me,” Kuroo tells them. “I’ll look after him.”

“I’m not a baby, Tetsu,” Tooru says, looking anywhere but at his teammates.

“We won’t dwell on it,” Futakuchi says brightly, and Tooru wonders what the catch is. But Futakuchi just skips off, and the rest of the team follows him to the gate for boarding.

It gets crowded once everyone lines up to board, and Tooru finds himself jostled by people rushing when their rows are called. A lot of them have excessive carry-on baggage—enough to put Futakuchi’s oversized laptop bag to shame—and it’s kind of aggravating. Once they walk down a sort of tunnel to the plane, a stewardess takes Tooru’s boarding pass and points him in the direction of his seat.

“Huh,” Kuroo says, “looks like we’re sitting even nearer than I thought.”

“Yeah,” Tooru says, trying not to let on just how relieved he is. Bokuto and Ushijima are both near the front of the economy seats, and then Aone and Nishinoya are a bit behind them. Tooru and Kuroo are right at the back of the plane, though, and Futakuchi seems to be near them.

Kuroo catches Tooru’s eye as he shoots a wary glance at Futakuchi. Before either of them can so much as roll their eyes, though, there’s trouble across the seats between the aisles.

“I’m sorry,—” the stewardess pauses, looking down at Futakuchi’s boarding pass, “—Futakuchi-san, it seems there’s been a double-booking.”

“I got here first,” the man in the seat protests. “This is unacceptable.”

The stewardess gives him a strained but sympathetic look. “I’m very sorry for the inconvenience, sir,” she says. “I can assure you that you may stay in your seat.”

“So where will I sit?” Futakuchi asks, his shoulders sagging.

“Hmm,” the stewardess says, looking up at the roof of the plane in thought. “I’ll have to ask my supervisor, but if you’ll follow me, Futakuchi-san, we may have some spare seats in first class.”

Futakuchi grins like he’s just won the lottery. “Yeah,” he says. “Absolutely!”

The stewardess returns his smile, and leads him backwards through a throng of passengers.

“Did we just watch that happen,” Kuroo says, “in real life?”

“Can they just… _do_ that?” Tooru asks. “Move him to a seat in first class?”

“It’s called getting upgraded,” Kuroo says—he’s not being patronising, but Tooru still berates himself, because of course he knew the word.

Thankfully, Kuroo lets it drop. Tooru settles into his seat on the aisle, and puts his bag up in the overhead locker. It strikes him that maybe he should have spent less of his life watching replays of volleyball matches, and more watching movies set on planes. Then maybe this wouldn’t be so weird.

Kuroo is two rows forward, but also on the aisle, and he shoots Tooru a thumbs up before settling into his seat.

Tooru sighs, and sits down. There are two businessmen, with suits and briefcases, to his left who aren’t talking to each other and don’t seem interested in talking to Tooru. Up ahead, an elderly woman has already started to chat to Kuroo.

To pass the time, Tooru takes out his phone and texts Iwa again.

> **To:** Iwa-chan
> 
> Planes are weird (*ﾟﾛﾟ)
> 
> Ken-chan just got upgraded to first class!
> 
> **From:** Iwa-chan
> 
> Turn off your phone, idiot!
> 
> **To:** Iwa-chan
> 
> ???
> 
> **From:** Iwa-chan
> 
> You have to set it to flight mode
> 
> **To:** Iwa-chan
> 
> I always wondered what that was for ｡(*^▽^*)ゞ
> 
> **From:** Iwa-chan
> 
> And then turn it the fuck off
> 
> You can turn it on when they say so, and some planes have wifi but otherwise you’ll have to do without.

Tooru frowns at his phone. Or, maybe he’s frowning at Iwa. Maybe he’s frowning at the fact that he’s about to spend eight hours in a metal box with wings that’s flying over the Pacific Ocean and he has no idea how he’s meant to cope with it.

> **To:** Iwa-chan
> 
> Yes sir!

He activates flight mode, but then, because there are no electronics allowed during take off, there’s nothing for him to do except run through strategies in his notebook. The businessman next to him gives his rotation diagrams a weird look. Tooru doesn’t dignify him with an explanation.

The plane starts moving slowly, and the stewards run through a safety demonstration. Tooru flips to a new page in his notebook and takes notes—no-one else seems to be listening, though, which is weird, because the voiceover specifically said to pay close attention.

Once it’s over, there’s a bit more of a wait, and then the plane starts to speed up. Tooru tightens his seatbelt just in case, but taking off isn’t as bad as he’d expected. In what seems like no time at all, they’re steady in the air and the seatbelt sign is turned off.

Kuroo takes this as an opportunity to wander down to Tooru.

“How’re you coping, newbie?”

“Ha ha,” Tooru says. “You just wanted to get away from the stranger who’s been talking to you this whole time.”

“Guilty as charged,” Kuroo says, shrugging. “But I did also want to check on you. No nausea or anything?”

Tooru gives Kuroo a glare. “You don’t need to worry,” he says.

“Sure,” Kuroo says. “Want to go for a bit of a walk?”

Tooru glances at the businessmen to his left—the one at the window has fallen asleep.

“Well, it’d be more interesting than just sitting here,” he says.

“Follow on, then,” Kuroo says.

They don’t make it far before they pass a teammate. Futakuchi is sitting to the left, between a woman doing a crossword and a man reading the newspaper.

“I thought you were getting upgraded to _first_ class,” Kuroo says.

Futakuchi rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I made sure I got the seat, and then I switched with Aone. He needs the legroom more than I do.”

“That’s,” Tooru says, “actually really nice of you, Ken-chan!”

“I’m impressed,” Kuroo says.

“Piss off, you two,” Futakuchi snaps.

He’s almost blushing, though, and as though to reaffirm his arsehole credentials, he swivels in his seat and leans over to the woman doing the crossword. “Twelve down is ‘inversion.’”

Tooru and Kuroo move on, and make their way up and around the economy section. Bokuto has already made friends with the family sitting near him, and is doing magic tricks for three kids, none of whom could be any older than ten. Ushijima has started on his first textbook, and is making notes on macroeconomics. He has the headphones that the airline provides over his ears, but they’re not plugged into anything. Nishinoya is watching something on the screen on the back of the chair in front of him, and laughing loud enough that the person next to him is covering their face and ostensibly trying to sleep.

After a while, though, they’re shuffled out of the aisles by a steward with a food trolley, and Tooru goes back to his strategy notebook while he waits for the trolley to pass him.

He forces himself through dinner, even though it’s barely edible, and then watches a documentary about deep sea fish until he falls asleep. When he wakes up, it’s an hour later, and the businessman next to him is talking to him.

“Excuse me, I need to use the bathroom.”

Rubbing his eyes, Tooru pulls off his headphones and stretches. “Alright,” he says, getting to his feet.

The man ambles to the bathrooms at the middle of the plane, which seems sort of weird. Tooru half-heartedly heads towards the back, which is not as far away. It’s there that he finds Futakuchi slumped against the wall, looking at something on his phone.

“Is there a queue?” Tooru asks.

“I think two of them are free,” Futakuchi says, not looking up from his phone. “Crossword girl is mad at me because she couldn’t work out that nine across was ‘disconcerting,’ so I thought I’d take a break.”

Tooru is good at noticing when something’s wrong, though. It’s what makes him a good team captain. Iwa always says that he can pick up everyone else’s problems except his own. That’s not really how he wants his team to see him, but since they’ve been fussing over him for never having flown before, he feels like now is the time to fuss in return.

“Looks like you’re sulking to me,” Tooru says. “Right?”

Futakuchi pulls a face. “I just—it just hit me that we’re going to be away for two weeks,” he says. “That’s a long time.”

“Haven’t you been on holiday before?” Tooru teases.

“Of course I have,” Futakuchi says quickly. “Just not for a while, not since…”

“Since?”

“Since I got a, um, significant other,” Futakuchi finishes, rubbing the back of his head. “Or whatever.”

Tooru’s face lights up. “Ah, is Ken-chan talking about _romance_?”

“Shut up,” Futakuchi says. “I shouldn’t have mentioned—”

“You know,” Tooru says, “you can’t let love stand in the way of volleyball.”

“Are you for real?” Futakuchi asks.

“Wait, wait, I’m not done,” Tooru says, sticking his arms out. “You also can’t let volleyball stand in the way of love. That’s why there’s wifi on planes.”

“That’s not why there’s wifi on planes,” Futakuchi says. “There’s wifi on planes because—”

“No-one asked the engineer,” Tooru says lightly, waving his hands about. “I’ll leave you alone, and you can email your whatever-friend.”

“I can’t tell if you genuinely don’t know that you’re ridiculous, or if every word that leaves your mouth is some sort of post-ironic performance art experiment,” Futakuchi says.

Tooru doesn’t quite know how to respond to that. He’s been called many things before—some of them flattering and most of them kind of offensive—but “post-ironic” is not one of them.

“I’m willing to put our differences aside if you never question my sincerity again,” he says.

“I don’t know if I can make that commitment,” Futakuchi says, laughing.

“Do it for the team!” Tooru says.

The closest bathroom door swings open, and Bokuto steps out. “Oh, hey,” he says, “fancy seeing you two here!”

Futakuchi gapes at him. “How long have you been in there?”

“Like, half an hour,” Bokuto says. “I love plane toilets. I love the weird flushing sound.”

“I take it back,” Tooru says, “what I said earlier. I think I prefer Ken-chan’s company.”

“Performance art,” Futakuchi says. “There’s no other explanation.”

“Oh my god,” Bokuto says. “Oikawa, I just realised, you’ve never used a plane toilet, have you?”

Tooru peers over Bokuto’s shoulder and into the cubicle behind him. “No… and I’m not sure I want to.”

“C’mon!” Bokuto says. “Don’t you need to pee?”

“No!” Tooru says, even though he kind of does. He will hold it in all the way to Hawaii if he has to, just to spite Bokuto.

“If you go now, he’ll stop bothering you,” Futakuchi says.

And, actually, he makes a good point.

“ _Fine_ ,” Tooru says, “you win this round.”

As he closes the bathroom door behind him, he can hear Futakuchi telling Bokuto to bugger off so that he can send an email. The silence after that suggests that Bokuto did as he was told, and in the quiet, Tooru takes in the atmosphere of the bathroom. It’s like a buzzing closet with mood lighting and a vaguely unsettling smell. Tooru is too nervous to do anything in here, so he waits for a moment, eyeing the wet paper towels strewn across the tiny basin, and then flushes the toilet.

The whooshing sound makes him jump, and he crashes against the wall. There’s laughter from outside the cubicle. Tooru ignores it, and runs the tap for a second. He wipes his hands with a paper towel and then uses it to unlatch the door, turning around to put it in the bin before he makes his exit.

When he gets out of the bathroom, he sees his entire team standing before him.

“I told them it was your first time,” Bokuto says proudly.

Tooru gives him his best withering look.

“And then I thought, hey, why not just convene up the back of the plane for a party?” Bokuto continues.

“It’s noisier back here,” Ushijima says, adjusting the unplugged headphones hanging around his neck.

“But that makes it perfect for a party!” Nishinoya says. “No-one will hear us over this noise.”

“And it’s almost like we’re all sitting together,” Kuroo says. “Which would have been nice.”

Aone nods at that, but Futakuchi shakes his head. “I’m spending the next two weeks with you lot,” he says. “A few hours apart might have been nice.”

“I would have thought you’d get lonely all on your own,” Tooru says.

“Shut it, Oikawa,” Futakuchi says. “You’re the baby who’s never done this before.”

“You _guys_ ,” Bokuto says. “Let’s all play nice and—”

He’s cut off as the plane lurches, and the seven of them are thrown sideways. Tooru is lucky enough to land on Aone, who helps him up easily, but Nishinoya has Ushijima pinning him to a wall, and Kuroo hits his head on the seat in front of him, waking up someone who’d been sleeping.

As they pull themselves back together, Tooru is surprised by how calm they all seem. “What _was_ that?” he asks.

“Atmospheric turbulence,” Futakuchi says. “I’ve got a course on it next trimester.”

“That was the wind?” Tooru asks, just to clarify, and because it seems a bit nicer than telling Aerospace Engineering over there that he needs to stop showing off about his fancy degree.

“Yeah, it’s nothing to worry about,” Kuroo says, as the plane shudders again. This time, they’re more prepared, and only Nishinoya trips slightly.

He recovers with a jump and a yell. “That’s my new move! Atmospheric Turbulence!”

“I’m more worried by those bathrooms than the turbulence,” Tooru says to Kuroo, glancing back at the cubicle.

“They’re unsanitary,” Ushijima agrees. “But the flushing mechanism is impressive.”

“See!” Bokuto shouts. “Everyone likes it except you, Oikawa!”

Tooru gives his teammates a look of despair. They’re all idiots. Weird, eccentric, indescribable—and he hates them for making him like them so much.

The plane’s intercom system starts up, and someone clears their throat. “We are currently experiencing some slight turbulence. Please return to your seats, as the Captain has switched on the seatbelt sign.”

“Guess we’re splitting up again,” Bokuto says sadly.

“Not to worry,” Tooru says. “We’ll be off this plane in about four hours, and then we can spend as much time together as we want.”

“I can’t wait!” Nishinoya says.

“I can,” Futakuchi says under his breath.

“We can even throw a party,” Tooru adds, nodding to himself.

Bokuto punches the air. “Wicked awesome! Okay! Let’s go be safe!”

“I had thought that staying here was reckless,” Ushijima says mildly, leading the way back down the aisles.

“Hey, Tooru,” Kuroo says, catching Tooru’s elbow just as he’s about to sit down. “You’re doing better.”

“Yeah,” Tooru says. “Not so ‘pre-match jitters’ anymore, huh?”

“Now it’s like you’ve already won,” Kuroo says.

When he sits down, Tooru almost loathes the silence, almost misses his team’s company. But he also feels like he’s shed a weight, like he doesn’t have anything to worry about, even though he wasn’t really aware that he was worrying before.

Having a team, having people he can rely on beside him, is almost more important off the court than on it. And now, for the first time since high school, Tooru feels like he might have found that again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment and/or chat to me about your Oikawa-related emotions!


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